


Bringing Light

by QueenMaureen



Series: Bringing Light [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Again with the incest?, Alternate Universe - Family, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anxiety, Chuck Shurley's A+ Parenting, Cute Lucifer, Depression, Diary/Journal, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Gen, Good Lucifer (Supernatural), Good Older Sibling Lucifer (Supernatural), Hurt Lucifer, I didn't want to be one of those people with a million tags but here we are, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Insecure Lucifer, Jealous Lucifer, Lollll jk it still hurts, Lucifer (Supernatural) is a Little Shit, Lucifer Feels, Lucifer doesn't even look like a real word anymore, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Lucifer, Panic Attacks, Pansexual Character, Parent Naomi (Supernatural), Personal Growth, Protective Lucifer, References to Depression, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sibling Bonding, Siblings, Social Anxiety, THERE IS NO BULLET JOURNALING TAG YET, Tattoos, This is not game of thrones, Twins, Unrequited Love, Why are there so many sibling incest tags?, Young Lucifer, bullet journaling, hold shit how many Lucifer tags can I get, honestly I can't get enough of good Lucifer though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-26 00:09:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12544392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenMaureen/pseuds/QueenMaureen
Summary: It's just a ratty journal with a bullet hole through the center - really just a jibe at Michael. He was the one who told Lucifer that he should start bullet journaling, after all. But that ratty journal holds all of Lucifer's most vivid memories - his greatest triumphs and his most humiliating defeats, every time he ever fell in love and every resulting heartbreak - his entire life. And maybe, just maybe, the last page of this journal will answer his biggest question - who am I?





	1. Chapter 1

The earliest memories Lucifer has are simply images, yet they're somehow still tinged with joy. Contentment. A little blue house on a cul de sac. A navy-blue VW Beetle wearing bright-orange painted flames. A park, with a circle of fountains you could run through. He knows it's impossible, but these memories are golden, as if the sunlight in 1998 was liquid amber. He mentioned it to Michael, once, long ago. Michael only laughed at him. Lucifer never brought it up again, preferring to keep it close to himself. Preferring to remember when he was truly and blissfully happy. 

Lucifer has always held his California birthright in high esteem. After they moved to Georgia, simply saying, "Oh, I'm from San Francisco," gave him a god-like status with the small-town kids he grew up with. Never mind that he's from Walnut Creek, which is in the San Francisco  _Bay Area_ , so not _strictly_ San Francisco. It's no different than what these kids do, saying they live in Atlanta when really they're 30 miles out in _Metro_ -Atlanta. And never mind that he moved here when he and Michael were two. He truly does remember California, no matter how often his twin says it's impossible.  

Michael, on the other hand, loves it here. He doesn't remember California as well as Lucifer does, and he considers Marietta, Georgia, to be his home. But mostly, he just loves their family, even their younger siblings, the disgusting little brats.  

When they were younger, Lucifer had honest-to-god hated his siblings. The way he saw it, they had taken him from his home and moved him to the opposite coast. Michael, always the reasonable one, had told him countless times that if he had to blame someone, blame the company. If it weren't for the company, his parents would have found another house around the Bay Area, instead of across the country. If it weren't for the company, Adonai and Naomi Shurley would never have considered having more than three children. "So hate the company," Michael says. 

Secretly, Lucifer can't. For all that he loves the beaches and palm trees of his first home, he really does love it here (not that'd he'd  _ever_  tell Michael that). He loves the mountains. He loves watching the leaves turn in the fall. He loves the farms and the woods. He loves the historic downtown district, and The Roadhouse, the hipster coffeeshop where he spends probably too much of his time and money.  

Most people assume that because he wears his hair shoulder-length and ratty, because he has tattoos and has his ears pierced, because he went through a few years of dying his hair almost every color in the rainbow, and because his clothing is too alternative and androgynous for their conservative community, that Lucifer is uneducated. A rebel. True, he never appeared to care for school, but one of his greatest joys is proving those people wrong. The look on their faces when he launches into an in-depth summary of debate strategy, or when he rattles off the translation of a Latin phrase in passing, or when he gives an hours-long spiel on the nuances of Shakespeare's  _Hamlet,_ or how Achilles was  _totally_ gay for Patroclus... Priceless. And don't even get him started on the Civil War...  _He lives in the middle of a veritable treasure trove of battles fields and brick ante-bellum buildings_ , he argues,  _how could he_ not  _be passionate about it??_   

Michael knows. Michael knows that his twin and his antithesis is unconditionally and irrevocably in love with his life. And Lucifer knows that Michael knows, no matter how often Michael yells at him that he shouldn't pick favorites, that all their siblings are worthy of the same love. Lucifer knows, and so he just rolls his eyes and bears it. Oh well, no one's perfect, right? 

And to be completely fair to him, Michael dotes on them more than enough for the two of them. And it's not like Lucifer hates them! Not at all, he loves Gabriel. Gabe's a hoot, a man after Lucifer's own heart. He loves Castiel, the 60-year-old stuck in an 18-year-old body. Anna... eh. Anna's alright. Raphael's a prick, and Uriel's an asshole, but hey, he loves Balthazar! The kid shows potential. And yeah, he's sick of Gadreel's bullshit, but he loves baby Samandriel. That's... five out of nine! Hah! Michael can suck it, Lucifer loves  _more than_ _half_  of his siblings. 

Lucifer... 

 

\--- 

 

"Dude, what the fuck?"  

Lucifer's pen jumped imperceptibly at his friend's voice. "Jesus fucking Christ, Dean! I'm gonna put a bell on you someday, I swear." 

Dean sat, leaning against the oak tree next to Lucifer. "I'd like to see you try. But for real, man, what the fuck are you doing?" He grabbed the notebook from Lucifer and held it up, peering through the hole in the center. "And what the fuck is this?" 

Grinning, Lucifer clicked his pen rapidly against his leg, an idle tick he could never quite control. "That, my dear, is a bullet journal."  

Eyebrow raised, Dean handed back the journal. "You do realize that this is definitely not what Michael meant when he said you should start bullet journaling, right?" 

Lucifer shrugged. "Yeah, I'm aware. I just don't care. ...How do  _you_  know what a bullet journal is, anyway? I would've thought that  _this_  kind would be more your style, too," he said, sticking his finger through the bullet hole and winking. 

Dean shifted, tearing away a blade of grass and running it through his fingers. "Yeah, well... Cas is into it, so..." 

Rolling his eyes, Lucifer stood, pocketing his pen and stuffing the journal into his backpack. "Cas is into it, huh? He's such a  _dork_." 

"Hey, that's my boyfriend you're talking about." 

Lucifer shuddered. "Ewww, don't call him that. Dear lil Jimmy was my baby brother first, ya know. I don't wanna hear it." 

"The love of my life..." 

Lucifer's heart tugged at something, at someone, that honestly, he didn't want to think about right now. "Yeah, yeah, why dontcha shaddup already."  

 

\--- 

 

...Lucifer loved his life. 

He just didn't think it loved him back. 

 

\--- 

 

Lucifer drummed his fingers against the table while Sam read. The Roadhouse was quiet today, _Red Hot Chili Peppers_ playing quietly in the background, the baristas behind the counter dancing and laughing while making drinks. Sam's voice snapped him back to their table. 

" _He just didn't think it loved him back?_  A bit dramatic, don't you think?"  

Lucifer sighed, leaning across the table. "No, it's  _eloquent_ , not dramatic. I am an  _artist_ , I believe you meant to say. A  _wordsmith_." 

"No, I meant dramatic. Why am I reading your diary again?" 

"It's not a diary, Sam. It's an... an autobiography.  _The Life of Lucifer Nicholas Shurley_." 

Rolling his eyes, Sam flicked Lucifer's arm. "You have to be famous to write an autobiography, Luci." 

"Shut up, I am famous. And that's beside the point. What do you think?" 

"About your autobiography?" 

"About my autobiography." 

Lucifer could practically see the orator in Sam spring to life as his best friend reclined, his gaze unfocusing. "I think... I think that you do have a way with words. You've set up the precedent for why Lucifer matters in this, but we don't know much about him yet. We know he has a twin, named Michael, and his other siblings are named Gabriel, Castiel, An... We know he has other siblings, too many to list. We know his parents' names are Adonai and Naomi. We know he and Michael are the oldest, that they used to live in Walnut Creek, and now they live in Marietta. We know superficial things about Lucifer – that he used to dye his hair, he wears untraditional clothing, he likes coffee. So what else? We know why he's here, but we don't know who he is." 

"That's kinda the point of the whole book, Sam. To find out who he is." 

"Yeah, but..." Sam waves his hand in a circle, still lost in thought. "You still need to start with something. What about... Oh, you know how you're ever so slightly obsessed with the meanings of y'all's names?" Lucifer nods. "So start there. You could also... Well, you  _could_ go into your tattoos, but you might want to save that for later. I don't know, just describe yourself. Your siblings. Tell the reader just enough so that they aren't going into this blind." 

A slow smile stretches across Lucifer's face. "See? This is why you're my best friend, and not Dean. You're actually helpful to keep around." 

"Yeah, and also because you're in love with Dean." 

"Shut the fuck up." 

 

\--- 

 

People have always said that Michael and Lucifer are like night and day. Michael got their mother's height, and their father's coloring. With his dark, slightly wavy hair, deep chocolate eyes, and his warm smile, and of  _course_  those damn muscles, he looks like Superman come to life. Lucifer, on the other hand... well, let's just say that he's been compared to Kurt Cobain more than once.  

Even their personalities are opposite each other. Michael has ever been a perfect angel of a child, saying "yes, ma'am," and "no, sir;" it's enough to make his twin sick. Lucifer's first word was "no," and according to their parents, it went downhill from there. Even now, as adults, they couldn't be more different. Michael listens to jazz (and the occasional pop, but Lucifer's sworn not to tell a soul). Michael wears button-ups and khakis. Michael graduated college in two years, and now has a regular nine-to-five desk job. Michael hasn't been in a committed relationship for years, but that's because he's "waiting for the right person." Michael is a heterosexual, cisgender, traditionally-conservative male. Michael can do no wrong.  

But Lucifer? He listens to indie and rock (the horror!). Lucifer wears band tees and skinny jeans. Lucifer is still in school and planning on entering the tattoo industry, and has never had a "real job" – instead he jumps from odd-job to odd-job. Lucifer hasn't been in a committed relationship  _ever_ , instead choosing to throw himself away on more one-night-stands than he can count. He's pansexual, he's ever-so-slightly gender-queer, and he's not quite liberal enough for the liberals and not quite conservative enough for the conservatives. No one really knows what to make of him.  

At least, that's what other people see. Michael and Lucifer? They know better. They know that when it really matters, they're more like each other than not. They can both lose themselves in Tchaikovsky and Homer, they both are fiercely loyal and protective of the other, they both hold their personal beliefs in the utmost regard. And above all, they both would die for their family (well, Michael would. Lucifer would die for _some_ of his family). 

It didn't use to be that way, sure. Adonai (or Chuck, as he likes to be called – Lucifer could never figure that one out) and Naomi had been telling Lucifer that he was different from the day he was born. No, from the day they named him.  

Particularly, his name used to be the sorest spot in a sea of sore spots for him.  _You were so careful about everyone else's names_ , he said,  _so why do any different with me??_ It was almost laughable.  

See, there was Michael Adam –  _Who Is Made_ _Like_ _God?;_ Gabriel Filou –  _God Is My Strength;_ Castiel James –  _Supplanted_ _Shield Of God_ ; Anna Grace – (okay, literally her name means  _Grace_ _Grace_ so maybe it wasn't only him their parents named while drunk); Raphael Donald –  _God Is Healer_ _And_ _Ruler;_ Uriel Robert –  _God Is My Shining Light;_ Balthazar Freely –  _Free_ _Protector_ _Of_ _The_ _King;_ Gadreel Ezekiel –  _Strong_ _Wall_ _Of_ _God;_  and Samandriel Alfred –  _Wise Messenger_. But him? Lucifer?  

Of  _course_  he got to be the one named after the fucking devil.  

 

\--- 

 

"...named after the fucking devil." 

Michael chucked a pillow across the room, hitting Lucifer squarely in the chest. "Language." 

Lucifer rolled his eyes, smiling. 

 

\--- 

 

Of  _course_  he got to be the one named after  ~~the fucking devil~~  Satan himself.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FOR REFERENCE: 

Michael look like Matthew Cohen in Episode 5.13,

and Lucifer looks like a mixture of Mark Pellegrino in The Big Lebowski

and Ellie Parker.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucifer leaned his head back against the brick wall, not caring about the water seeping into his denim jacket. The crisp night air smelled of pasta, of burgers, of roasting coffee, and of cigarette smoke. Normally, this would have been the perfect night. Lucifer's cup of Roadhouse coffee was getting cold, though, and he was still no closer to the inspiration he needed.  

Gabriel dropped from his spot on the stairs across the alley, putting out his cigarette against the damp stone as he sat next to Lucifer, leaning against his brother. "What's eatin' you?" 

"This damn journal," Lucifer groaned, stretching his legs in front of him. "I don't know where to go from here." 

"Where's here?" 

"...the first chapter..." 

Gabe laughed, eyes twinkling in the dim light. "Stuck that early, huh? Why are you keeping with 'this damn journal' anyway?" 

Lucifer shook his head. "Honestly? I'm not sure. I just... need to." 

"Huh, okay. So let me be your muse! O mighty Lucifer, what do you desire to tell?" 

Lucifer grinned, pushing Gabriel over into the puddle next to them. "Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns..." 

Gabriel sighed dramatically, hopping to his feet and pulling Lucifer up after him. " _God_ , Luci, you're such a  _nerd_. Quit quoting the Iliad at me, will ya?" 

Lucifer rolled his eyes. "That's  _t_ _he_ _Odyssey,_  at least get it right. Didn't you pay  _any_  attention in ancient literature?" he huffed, his breath freezing in the air.  

"To that shit? Heck to the naw." 

"Hey, that shit was interesting. And seriously, what am I supposed to do?" 

"Well, speaking as your muse, why don't you just start at the beginning?" 

"Well, in the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word  _was_  God..." 

Gabriel's exasperated moan was possibly the greatest thing Lucifer had ever heard. 

 

\--- 

 

Michael and Lucifer had always shared everything, even friends. So when Zachariah moved in down the street when they were three, the trio quickly became inseparable. They were the picture of idyllic friendship – even their parents grew close, meeting for scones and tea while the boys disappeared into the playroom.  

At first, it had been Michael and Zachariah who had been best friends, while Lucifer hugged the background. Even at three years old, he'd been burned – Alex had decided that as a kindergartner, Lucifer was too young to be best friends with, and Emerson had simply dropped off the face of the earth. Lucifer had already learned to be wary of friendship. 

Zachariah would have none of that, however. And so he was patient, until the "Mike + Zach" carved into the oak tree out front became "Mike + Zach + Luci."    

It was Lucifer who threatened to beat up Zach's bullies, just as it was Zachariah who introduced Lucifer to the world outside their neighborhood. And when Hannah joined their group, Michael fell in love. Lucifer just rolled his eyes, telling his twin that five-year-olds can't understand love. 

It didn't matter. The gang of four, the rat-pack, the cool kids, the Secret Society of Lebanon Manor, was Lucifer and Michael's entire world. Zachariah was the first non-family-member to meet Gabriel when he was born, and then a year later Castiel and Anna. 

As they grew older, their friendship grew more exclusive. Zachariah would play with Gabe, but not Cas or Anna. For his seventh birthday, he wanted to see only three people: Michael, Lucifer, and Hannah. Any time that Michael would mention any of their other friends, Zachariah would become sullen, refusing to speak for days before acting like it never happened. Their parents worried, seeing tension where the boys swore up and down there was none.  

Swearing irregardless, their group did start to crack. When Lucifer lost it, and screamed at Zach that he hated him, Michael was the one who frantically chased after Zachariah, promising that, "Lucifer didn't mean it, it was just a joke, he doesn't hate you!" Hannah stopped coming around, Zachariah wanting to keep her to himself.  

 _They're children_ , Naomi reasoned.  _They'll be fine_. After all, they still ran to each other's houses every day after school.  

Lucifer though, knew better. He knew that he and Zachariah merely tolerated each other now, only held together by Michael.  

So when one day he walked in on Naomi fuming, his five baby siblings cowering in various parts of the house, and Michael locked in their room, sobbing, no one was  _less_  surprised than Lucifer that it was all Zachariah's fault. 

From what his mother told him through her bottle of wine, Zachariah (the coward) had decided he was done. He decided he was done with Lucifer and Michael, and then had his mom do the dirty work for him.  

Their family was never the same again. 

The attention was focused on Michael, who swiftly fell deep into a swirling hurricane of depression. He would wake up in the middle of the night, sobbing, until Lucifer would climb down onto Michael's bunk and spend the rest of the night pressed to his side.  

As for Lucifer? He wanted to be mad. He wanted to be  _furious_. He had known Zachariah was a little rat. But in truth, he evaded their parents' attention. He didn't rage, he didn't cry, he never talked about it. He didn't feel bad, he didn't feel sad, he didn't feel mad. 

Lucifer felt nothing at all. 

 

\--- 

 

"Luci, is that really how you saw Zach?" Michael looked up from the journal in his lap, head tilted as he watched his twin. 

"Hell yeah, I did. I had stopped caring about him long before he left us." 

Gabriel hopped down from where he sat on their kitchen counter, peering over Michael's shoulder as he read. " _...he had known Zachariah was a little rat?_ I guess that's one way of putting it... he was awful." 

Castiel rolled his eyes from the corner. "How would you know? You were too little to remember him, same as us." 

Lucifer smiled as his brothers argued, the paint from his canvas dripping onto the newspaper underneath. Michael, however, was silent, having closed the book and now simply staring at his folded legs. Lucifer's smile faded. He knew talking about Zachariah was as hard for Michael as talking about Lilith was for him.  

 

\--- 

 

After their siblings left, Lucifer grabbed his journal from Michael and sat on the couch next to him, leaning back so his legs were spread over his brother's.  

"Hey, what's up?" he asked, bumping Michael's chest with his knee. "You've been pretty quiet." 

"I know I was the one who convinced you to write this, and all, but..." 

"But...?" 

Michael looked up at him, annoyed. "Are you sure you're not just using this as a way to keep from talking?" 

"Well, I'm talking now, aren't I?" 

Sitting up, Michael shoved Lucifer off of him. "Quit joking! Why is it that this happened eleven years and we're only just talking about it?" 

"Maybe because it happened eleven years ago?" 

"This is exactly what I mean!" Michael growled, "You feel these things and you never tell me, you never tell  _anyone_ , and you try to hide it all behind cynicism and wit! It's not  _healthy_ , Lu, and you can try and you can try to pretend you're alright, like you're not fucked up," 

"Language." 

"like you're not  _fucked up_ , but I know you are and honestly, are you  _trying_ to insult me by insinuating that I'm too much of an idiot to see what's going on with my own twin?" 

Lucifer sat up, fingernails digging into his palm. "What is it exactly you're pissed about, then?" 

"How was I supposed to know that you weren't okay, that you're still not okay, if you never  _talk_  to me?!" Michael asked, standing.  

"Wait, okay, so are you upset that you know something's going on with me, or are you upset that you  _don’t_  know something's going on with me? And what the hell do you mean 'still not okay'??" 

"Oh, quit pretending! I  _know_  you're not okay, and I can't believe that you didn't let me know that all this was going eleven years ago!" 

" _Oh, quit pretending_ , my ass! I'm fine! I'm happy! At least, I am when you're not like this! And maybe you would've known that was going on eleven years ago if you'd have just cared enough to  _look_ _!!"_  

The  _bang_  of Michael's door echoed throughout the otherwise silent apartment, shocking a bit of guilt into Lucifer. Quietly sitting next to his brother's door, he leaned his head back against it and rapped with his knuckles. "...Michael? Do you wanna build a snowman?" He sighed when he got no answer. "Guess it's great we have our own place now, huh?" he continued, "Chuck and Naomi would have had a hayday over that. Gotten us back in therapy, right?" Still, silence was the only reply he received. "Alright, well... night, I guess. I'm gonna head out, meet up with Sam... text me if you need me to pick up anything, okay?" 

Lucifer groaned as he stood. "Well this is great," he muttered, rifling through his backpack until he found his last pack of cigarettes.  

His  _empty_  pack of cigarettes. 

 _"Fantastic."_  

 

 _\---_  

 

 _(P.S._ _–_ _Michael's pissed at me. Not sure what I did, but he said something about me not talking... I'm talking now, aren't I? I_ _dunno_ _. So... I guess I shouldn't be so cryptic?)_  

 

\--- 

 

Sam rolled his eyes.  _"I guess I shouldn't be so cryptic?_ Dude, that's as cryptic as it gets." 

 

\--- 

 

 _(_ _…_ _I_ _guess_   _I_ ~~ _shouldn't_ _be so cryptic?_~~ _should_ _start at the beginning again?)_  

 

 _\---_  

 

If Sam rolled his eyes any more, Lucifer was sure they were going to fall out of his head. "No, don't start over. Just... elaborate." 

 

\--- 

 

 _(_ _…_   _I_   _guess_   _I_   ~~ _shouldn't_ _be so cryptic?_~~   ~~ _should_   _start at the beginning again?_~~ _have_   _to elaborate_ _)_  

Just because Lucifer had grown apart from Zachariah before  _it_  happened, doesn't mean he had always disliked him. 

No, Lucifer had loved Zachariah, as much as he was able. Mike + Zach + Luci, right?  

Lucifer remembered running through Zachariah's house, shouting as he chased Zach and Michael. 

He remembered laying on his carpet, staring out the window as people and cars went by. 

He remembered dumping tubs of toys out onto the living room floor, shrieking as Zachariah chucked blocks at his head. "Red alert! Red alert! We've got enemy airships incoming! All stations, fire!"  

He remembered carving on the pull-out bed. "There, now this is officially Zachariah's bed!" 

He remembered Zachariah's seventh birthday, when he had taken Lucifer and Michael and Hannah to a pottery studio. Zach had made a couple of vases, a little dented but still useable. Hannah had tried to sculpt a giraffe, but it had ended up looking more like a sick llama. No one had any idea what Michael had tried to make, but Lucifer had made a unicorn – he had been so proud of that damn unicorn. Michael had named it Scar after Hannah had dropped it, leaving a crack across one eye. 

He remembered when Zachariah had found out that Santa Claus wasn't real – he hadn't spoken to his mom for a week, only talking to Lucifer and Michael. 

He remembered when Zachariah's parents got divorced. Michael was sweetly naïve, and had promptly put his foot in his mouth – "You know, a lot people get divorced because they can't decide who gets to keep the money. Is that what happened with your mom and dad?"  

He remembered taking Zachariah to church with them, and giving him his first Bible. 

He remembered when he and his Aunt Amara had gotten locked out of their house one night, and had to go down to Zachariah's house while they waited for someone to come with a key. That was the night that Lucifer got hooked on American Idol. 

He remembered watching Zachariah leave for school after spending the night, and promptly started crying into Michael's shoulder – "I miss Zach already..." 

So no, Lucifer had cared. Lucifer had loved him with all of his heart. So don't you dare believe that Lucifer felt nothing  _in spite_  of Zachariah. 

Lucifer felt nothing  _because_  of Zachariah. 

 

\--- 

 

Gabriel was sitting in their apartments, when Lucifer finally nudged open the front door, lit cigarette dangling from his fingers.  

"He okay?" he asked, kicking the door shut behind him. "He call you here?" 

Gabriel nodded, giving a pointed look at the cigarette still in his older brother's hand. "Yeah, I think he'll be fine. Why do you buy those things, anyway?" 

"Why do  _you?_ " 

"Because I actually smoke them. You don't. So why do you buy them?" 

Lucifer shrugged, holding it up as he looked at the smoldering tip. "I like the smell, I guess. You staying here tonight?" 

Gabe nodded and pointed to the blanket on the couch. "Yep, and I was about to go to sleep, so bug off, Luci." 

"This is my house. And it's three in the morning." 

"This is an apartment." 

"This is my  _apartment_ , and it's still three in the morning." 

"Good  _night!"_  

 

 _\---_  

 

Lucifer stopped by Michael's room before heading to his own, leaning his head against the door. "Hey... Michael? I'm sorry." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thank you so much for reading this! Only on chapter 2, and this is already my favorite thing I've ever written, whether unfinished, posted, or still just an idea on my list.  
> I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, but it shouldn't be too long.
> 
> Comment, leave kudos, tell me what you think!


End file.
